Surfacing Ch. 33

More movement inside. It was time to Speak again.

"Evnek'ssai..."

This time the Draegloth had shifted to brace himself on one arm, resting his knees and stretching his legs. Mourn saw the small tufts of white hair on his anklebones. Confirmed; this was the blood-son. Roshenanon's Draegloth was just outside. Muffled sound accompanied the Priestess's movements as she traded one book for another in her stack, though audio cues were not part and parcel to this particular spell. Nonetheless his ears had always been just as keen as his nose and his tongue.

"I still do not understand," Tarra grumbled to her Draegloth. "D'Shea's stubbornness, to the point of suicidal stupidity. How did she change so much? Or perhaps Phaelous is right and we are only seeing what she has always been. An incredible similarity between her and Shyntre now, which I had never seen before. Far less worthy of the respect I had always afforded her."

The Priestess lifted a fiberstalk quill from the desk and dipped it lightly in ink, scratching a note in her book. "It adds a certain impression to the power of the Valsharess's compulsions when she needs to use a subject with all the right talents, but not the right temperament. Fortunately, I have always been both. In many aspects, I have always been the liaison. The go-between of various powers. It suits me, and I should be at the Queen's Right Hand. I need not be compelled to burn up my own usefulness like the Headmaster and his son..."

Tarra shook her head, blowing lightly on the wet ink to dry it more quickly. At the same time, Mourn lost his visual but he kept listening, his ear very close to the wall. There was a certain irony here that he wondered whether Sirana had known about in suggesting this particular Priestess to Innathi.

"The Queen keeps changing Her mind," Tarra mused, seemingly confident that her Draegloth would never repeat anything that he heard. "Supposedly Sirana will be made to breed even after becoming the new Mistress... An even greater challenge than I had before. And whether it is to be Shyntre or the enslaved Dragonchild who impregnates her first...?"

A pause. "The Queen keeps changing Her mind. I suppose we must capture the other one first. Fortunately I am not responsible for this if he escapes... I do not know the first thing about trapping Dragons, though She seems confident. You and I will be ready to help, won't we?"

The Draegloth rumbled agreement as Mourn narrowed his eyes as he stared at the wall, willing her to continue on this subject.

*More details, please.*

She didn't oblige.

"It's the dagger I fear. The one from my dreams."

Mourn heard her stand up from her desk and walk farther from the wall where it was harder to hear her. He strained, remaining perfectly still.

"What did it mean, Ches?" she asked, sounding agitated. "That Human giving it to me in ceremony, promising me his eternal devotion...ripping me open to leave me exposed at the same time... I heard voices, so many voices at first..."

She growled as if to toss away her fear from her. "Who will keep that relic in check when all is said and done? I fear it will be me! That my earliest dreams within this Sanctuary has shown me my true purpose. I do not want it. To be guardian to that black dagger is to never escape it, no choice but to go mad..."

The Draegloth purred his concern; certainly he would be fearful about his own place if his mother lost her sanity and usefulness. Mourn wondered whether he was right and that the sound, all the same, was a bit distracted as if he sensed something.

Was he looking somewhere other than his dam? Was it the magic of the Word? Or was it the Ma'ab scepter? Either way, Mourn knew his time was running low, even if his patience wasn't. He likely wouldn't even get the chance to interrogate her about how the Queen intended to capture him. Silence was too important.

"Well," Tarra said at last after a long pause. She sounded like she was over by her bed now. "I should try to get some rest, shouldn't I? It is late, and the next cycle... By the end of it, we will know where we stand, you and I."

The Draegloth grunted.

Mourn waited still longer as he listened to a female Drow prepare herself to lie down. There was a great deal of rustling and moving about now that he wasn't sure exactly where they had each ended up within the room. One more view would be necessary, but fortune willing, it would be his last. Then he must move.

Whispering his Word again, he saw the candle had been put out; it was pitch black. He waited as his eyes adjusted to see Tarra reclining in her bed, still awake but within charging distance and without most of her usual belongings to hand. He would have to be wary of what she reached for within her bed, however. Nonetheless, "Ches" had settled himself to stand guard, his back to his mother and his eyes anywhere but on her.

Ches would see Mourn's entry, but he would have to react with Draconic instincts to avoid what was coming. And if he somehow did, Mourn had three contingencies ready for him to stumble into. Tarra only must barely be on the edge of sleep, too slow to come fully aware before realizing her son was dead, and it would begin.

Mourn checked the pulse of each Red Sister one more time, judged that they were still deeply unconscious, and returned to the glyphs, bringing them visible once more and mentally practicing how to touch them in the right order as he withdrew one flat, throwing dagger from his belt. He waited.

Then, choosing his time, he opened the exit from the spyways and dropped in, pitching his weapon with full arm and aim as soon as he had the clearance above his head. It had to be one fluid motion—the drop, the throw, the charge—and his training came through for him once again.

The Draegloth flinched as the tiny dagger landed in the hollow of his throat, confused and mute as the sliver of metal prevented him from breathing or speaking. Mourn hadn't stopped moving since entering the room, diving past the Draegloth momentarily to land crouched on Tarra's bed the moment she bolted upright; she was only just feeling her son's fatal distress.

They were face-to-face but Mourn couldn't tell her eyes' color in the dark. Her mouth was open but silent. He struck with the blade of his hand at the base of her neck, and the Priestess fell backward onto her pillow. Plenty of time to seize a just-turning Ches, draw a longer dagger, and slip it up beneath the bony sternum to pierce and stop the heart. The body went limp as he caught it, laying it down gently. He paused.

The door to the hallway didn't open, and Mourn had the time to deal with the Priestess's thrashing as she abruptly overcame the stun, awakened by the agony of her Dreagloth well and truly dying.

Mourn pressed her down and covered her nose and mouth; she couldn't move at all but he felt her aura surging uncontrollably, beating desperately at him, raw and frightened and grieving. Her entire body was tense beneath him, her eyes wide and unseeing. She wanted to scream and wail; that was all she wanted to do in the moments it took her to pass out at last from lack of air.

Even after that, he counted to thirty to make sure, listening to her heart and knowing she wasn't faking. He let her breathe.

She was his.

Mourn never stopped planning. He drew each Red Sister one at a time inside the room from the spyway, removed and hid their boots and belts and all the weapons he could find. He gagged and tied each one with her own cords to the bedframe, far enough apart they couldn't see each other very well or help the other. He retrieved and wiped down his own weapons, putting Ches into the bed, positioned as if asleep, and covered him up with a spider silk sheet. He stripped Tarra out of her sleep robe and replaced it with the robe she had just been wearing, complete with the belt containing ornamental dagger and Priestess spell components. He put her light shoes back on.

Now what? Leave Roshenthanon's Draegloth outside, as if all was well inside? It might give him until someone came to looking for the Priestess in time for the ritual the next cycle. However, if the Draegloth tried to come inside before that, this would be discovered much sooner. Which one? To answer his question, Mourn slipped up to the hallway door, flicking his tongue out, approaching cautiously as he kept every sense open.

There was a ward on the door. Perfect. This Draegloth couldn't come in without being allowed in—or without someone breaking the ward.

The Guild mercenary backed up and retrieved his target from the floor, putting her over his shoulder, her head drooping to his front where he could control her if she should awaken at any point.

He slipped back out into the spyways, closing the door behind him.

*********

Gaelan began by showing us a passage into the Cloister, one I hadn't known about and Rausery assured us the ward hadn't been changed. More importantly, the shadow-jumper could check unseen, giving a cursory exploration about the barracks, and reported it was empty. No Sisters; no lizards except the lame.

Both a good and a bad sign. If they were still in a holding pattern, they would be rotating rest periods and at least five Red Sisters would remain behind. If they were all gone, they were all needed in the City somewhere.

Gaelan helped herself to some antidotes of some of the most common poisons used by the Red Sisters—or by anyone, really— distributing them among us. Auslan tried to pass his to me and I refused.

*I do not know when to use this,* he signed.

I gestured to the male shadow. *Give it to Vic if you don't know when to use it. I have one and it's not the worst we could come up against.*

Gaelan nodded agreement. *There wasn't much left,* she signed. *No doubt they took all the good stuff.*

Vic accepted, giving it a sniff. *For Rire-weed, right?*

*Correct.*

He nodded and handed it back to Auslan, not taking any further refusal. *Quaff it if you feel at all nauseous after getting hit with a needle or dart. It might not be exactly right, but if it is, you won't be helpless retching on the ground.*

I smiled as my Consort took it with exaggerated concentration, as if he was memorizing that fact. I wondered if I looked like that early in my training.

Combined with the healing gems and vials Gaelan and Shyntre had made, we were well stocked. A burning, poisoned wound wasn't something we had no defense against; given time to act, we could reverse the effects of several kinds of direct hits. The trustworthiness of the materials made my Shyntre had already been called into question back at the haven.

"It was before he went back to the Palace, and they did something to him," Auslan had insisted. "They're clean. I know what his intent was as he made them, I could feel it. He wanted to help. Please use them, they may save your life."

"Caring so much can make one blind to the intent of others," Mourn had murmured thoughtfully; he hadn't decided yet.

"Our auras merged," the Consort argued—actually argued with the Dragonblood for once. "As neither Jaunda nor Vic or Halena could hide anything from your sire for a time, Shyntre couldn't hide anything from me during his time with us."

Mourn watched the smaller male steadily. "You are willing to risk all of us on your certainty of his motives?"

"I am."

There was a small tremor to his voice, but it sounded more like adrenalin than uncertainty to me. Auslan couldn't look at Mourn for long before dropping his gaze and he tightened his fists against the tremors, at least keeping his back straight until Mourn grunted.

I'd made my decision—I kept the two gems I'd been given, as Vesram had passed his to me—but everyone had to decide for themselves. Vic kept his vials without checking them, though Mourn and Gaelan each cast their own spell to look for anything off. I didn't blame them; if they knew how, why not? The two finding nothing amiss and keeping the resources only made everyone else feel better doing the same.

Now at the Cloister, even with all the Red Sisters gone, we would not try to reach the Sanctuary using the established tunnels just beneath the cavern. The odds of not finding even one Drider set to guard a direct route were from Cloister to Sanctuary not odds we had time to take.

Instead, Vesram carried Auslan on his back, turning them both invisible as Vic, Jael, and I used our skills to move outside through the rolling rocks of the Great Cavern and past the Wizard's Tower. Gaelan stayed out ahead of us until the meeting point, checking it for ambush well before we got there and messaging back an all-clear.

We had Phaelous's help for this next part, as Jaunda met us outside halfway between the Cloister and the Sanctuary. They had timed it to be at the same time that all of the battle mages and other students collected in the lobby and overflowed partway outside into the courtyard. They were being prepared to join Elder Rausery in the field. No one would be bored in his dormitory, scrying or looking for movement in the dead area around the Tower. They were all busy, anxious, excited, and most importantly, at ground-level with the rest of us.

*Lead,* the three of us greeted her, one of our few allies in the Sisterhood. All the same, Vic was nowhere to be seen and Vesram was still hiding himself and Auslan a short distance away.

Jaunda's black hood was up, mostly covering her face; she wasn't wearing her reds for this. As she got close enough, she made the sign Jael had been told by Mourn to accept as the Lead sent by the Headmaster:

*God-Lord's greeting.*

Because no one would think to make a sign for a male deity down here. Jaunda's mouth was even a bit twisted in commentary.

We relaxed a bit, and that was when my Lead's arm snapped out and snatched hold of my collar, pulling me forward off balance and roughly kissing my mouth. Instantly I recalled the taste, the scent. She had to know my spiders weren't on me to try this—

Her other hand caught the back of my head, trapping me unless I wanted to attack her, deepening the kiss as she parted my lips and swept her tongue inside. Her will seemed stronger than I'd ever remembered it being...

*Oh, fuck...!*

I submitted and kissed her back; Jaunda got more intense, bruising me she kissed hard, finishing off with a bite to my lower lip. Soul Drinker started laughing. I wasn't sure why.

The Lead grunted in satisfaction as I was allowed to stand up straight again, trying to catch my breath. Everyone was staring with varying levels of shock. Jaunda clearly didn't give a fuck what anyone thought.

*Yep. That's you, Blue Eyes,* she signed casually, eyes flicking down at my belly. *Can't believe you're still carrying. Any bigger and you can't run.*

*We know, Lead,* I signed. *This is as big as I get for a while.*

Another low grunt. *Don't think I didn't figure out that you fucked with me before you left, Sirana. Made me forget you were pregnant for a bit. Was it supposed to fade like that, or was it the Dragon's doing clearing up my head?*

I hesitated, stiffening. I remembered that Jaunda really didn't like being manipulated with compulsions; I'd even say it was one of her fears.

*Bit of both?*

Jaunda frowned irritably.

*It was better than what D'Shea wanted to do,* I signed. *She was considering repeating what she did to Gaelan on you if I wouldn't abort before the trial. She didn't believe you could hide that knowledge from the Valsharess without extra help. I had to do something. We made a deal.*

*So I figured,* she signed brusquely. She kept staring at my eyes. *No one's going to want you around after this, Sirana, you have to know that. You're not picturing that this is a good place after to settle and pop out your kid, right? You know this place. Magic is one thing, psionics is fucking something else, especially if you're the only one who has it.*

She wasn't the only one to glance at my belly then. No one knew if this was hereditary or not, but everyone would wonder. Some might even think they wouldn't want to take the chance that it was. The advantage wasn't free without consequence.

*I have somewhere else to go,* I answered stubbornly.

She smirked like she approved. *Say we win... if I were you, I'd leave at the first chance. Don't stay too long reveling in victory, or someone will decide you don't have the choice to keep your babe after all.*

My mood sank. Yes, whether I'd looked deeply at this or not, I knew she was right. I had to get Auslan and Shyntre up to the Surface anyway. I couldn't stay, no matter what, but in a way, I liked that Jaunda was still looking out for those pitfalls that any novice could stumble into. I liked that she would talk to me about this, offer some advice based on pure experience of the nature of our City. She knew what it was; she wasn't distracted by what she hoped it could be.

*Understood, Lead.*

*Good.* Jaunda's gaze went to Gaelan. *Learned some new tricks? Saw you moving in an out of sight.*

My elder Sister nodded with a small, intense smile. *Yes. Many. Enough to get my daughter back.*

The Lead sucked on her teeth in a dry, sinister smile. That Gaelan could communicate that without one twitch of pain told her all she needed to know, apparently. *Well, then. Let's get started fucking things up further.*

Jaunda had very precise instructions and intelligence for us three junior Sisters, refining what I'd learned from her almost three years ago and adding to it, giving us current knowledge we could use. Without this meeting we would have run straight into some nasty traps along the way, and in the end—while Jaunda couldn't go with us now—my former Lead had cemented that she would watch our backs when she got caught up.

First Phaelous had to negotiate, delay, do what he could using my spiders... Then she and Phaelous had to free D'Shea from inside the Queen's private altar room, with the help of whomever could get there. More of that depended on Innathi than I wanted to admit, especially as she had no care whether the sorceress survived to be a competitor or not, but Jaunda and Phaelous didn't know that. We had to wait, anticipate what we could, work with what we were given, and never give up.

I briefly allowed myself to mourn my own guardians probably being turned against me; better to feel it before I saw them again. I was fortunate I still had an antidote to their venom, had managed to keep it from breaking this whole trip, and I was even more fortunate to have the two bolts Gavin had made. He'd told me they were intended for Auranka, and they very well would be...

But I wondered. If I shot myself with them, would it stop a transformation into Lolth's Drider slave? Disrupt it, surely...but even Gavin had said the effects were "deeply metaphysical" and vague. Unpredictable.

As we approached the hidden passage leading to the Sanctuary spyways, I finally donned the undead marrowcaster. Soul Drinker was being cooperative, I had eaten again just now to keep my stomach quiet, and my spiders were elsewhere—possibly inside the Palace by now—and so it was time to bond with Gavin's gift.

The marrowcaster unfolded with minimal noise at the first, tiny psionic pulse I'd given in weeks, and it obeyed the mounting command. I felt the hard fingers of bone and sinew clasp hold of my right bracer, its tail wrapping farther up my arm to balance its clinging form. It was ready to loose its bolts, but unlike the black dagger and spiders, it needed no reassurance, it was not tempted no debate, it offered no distraction or contest of wills.

The marrowcaster was just there when I needed it.

*Closer,* I signed. *Gaelan and Vesram on point.*

Auslan was right behind me and Jael, with Vic watching our back as the two others disappeared before our eyes. They searched and Vesram spotted the Drider hiding in a crevice. It was scrunched down in heavy shadows cast by the City, above a seemingly available entry to the Sanctuary. There would be the usual ward and trap in place as well, but the Drider needed to be dealt with first.